Astrid sat alone in the courtyard outside Magnus's longhouse, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick. A heaviness weighed upon her. Erik, Rannveig, and Sigrida had left at dawn the previous day. By now, they would be navigating the treacherous coastal route to Skogstrand. She pictured their small boat hugging the shoreline, praying they had evaded Gunnar's scouts.

  Brandr emerged from the hall, his expression tense after meeting with his father, uncle Kjell, and their advisors. Their hushed voices and grave faces had hinted at discussions of war.

  "What happens next?" Astrid asked.

  "Quite a bit ahead of us," Brandr replied, settling beside her. "We need to call a Thing - gather all the clan leaders and chiefs who support my father. Without their help, we can't properly defend Skogstrand against Gunnar."

  "I've never attended a Thing before. What is it like?"

  Brandr's expression lightened. "Something to behold, truly. Picture our great hall filled with the most powerful leaders in Veldefold, all arguing and debating until they find common ground." He gestured toward the gates. "The messengers are already riding out to summon them."

  "Where are they being sent?"

  "All across Veldefold - to our kinsmen, the clans sworn to my father, the wealthy merchants and landowners." His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Anyone who'd rather not see Gunnar gain more power."

  "Will that bring enough support?"

  "Oh, word travels fast in these matters." Brandr smiled knowingly. "Other clans will come too, drawn by the promise of glory... or reward." He straightened, his bearing more formal. "As father's heir, I'll help lead the Thing."

  The words stirred a memory in Astrid - her brother Torsten would have similar duties in Skogstrand, standing beside their father at clan gatherings. The comparison made her heart ache.

  Astrid considered for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Can I attend as well? To speak on behalf of my father?

  Brandr looked at her, concern flickering across his face. "I'm not sure that's wise," he said after a pause.

  Astrid's brow furrowed. "Why not? Who better than me to represent my father among other leaders?"

  "True, but..." Brandr hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Your broken betrothal to Einar sparked this conflict. Many disapprove of your actions and attending the Thing might only stir more resentment."

  Astrid fell silent, deflated. She had not considered how others might view her defiance.

  Noticing her crestfallen expression, Brandr placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Astrid, I'm not judging your actions. But the consequences have been severe for all the clans. Tensions are high, and the Thing will be fraught enough without..."

  "Without the presence of the woman who defied tradition and her father's will," Astrid said quietly, her voice a mix of regret and stubborn pride.

  Brandr squeezed her shoulder. "For now, it's best you keep out of sight and let me handle the negotiations. Wait at the longhouse until we can sit down and figure something out for you."

  Astrid lowered her head, feeling the weight of exclusion settle over her. She thought about the ripple effects of her defiance—how it had torn fragile alliances apart and ignited tensions. She felt a pang of guilt but also a stubborn flicker of pride. Yes, she had disrupted the plans laid out for her, but she had also sought her own freedom and dared to dream of a different life.

  But now, as Brandr's words sank in, she understood the gravity of her situation. The Thing was no place for her; it was a battleground of politics and lingering resentments, and her presence might only fuel the fire. Still, it hurt to be seen as the cause of so much strife, to be reduced to a symbol of a broken alliance rather than a person with her own hopes and dreams. With a heavy heart, she accepted the necessity of staying out of sight, though her resolve to find her own path burned no less brightly.

  Brandr studied her face. "I know this isn't easy, but it's for the best. Some might want to see you punished for what's happened. I'm trying to keep you safe."

  Astrid's face fell, but she nodded. "I understand. I'll stay out of sight."

  "Thank you," Brandr said, offering a reassuring smile. He stood with her for a moment before adding, "I should go. The Thing will start soon, and I need to be with my father."

  He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Remember, keep your head down. It's safer that way."

  As he walked away, his words echoed in Astrid's mind. She thought of Erik, who had also sought to protect her. She recalled their journey to Skipavik — the stealthy departure, Erik's reassuring presence as he steered the boat, and his conflicted expression when their escape plan veered into dangerous territory.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Astrid squeezed her shoulders. A pang of guilt tightened her chest. She had been so focused on escaping her fate that she hadn't fully considered the repercussions. Each step she took towards freedom had left ripples that affected those around her—Erik, Brandr, Rannveig, Sigrida—all urging patience and consideration, while she rebelled, running headlong into the unknown.

  With freedom came responsibility—something she had yet to demonstrate she could carry. Erik and Brandr had protected her, and now she felt the weight of that protection. Even now, Erik, Rannveig, and Sigrida were risking their lives because of her actions.

  Astrid took a deep breath, a resolve hardening inside her. She must be more like them—protective, loyal, wise. It was time to grow beyond needing constant protection and learn to protect others instead.

  As the clamor in the courtyard grew, Astrid made her way back through the corridors towards Rannveig's room. Though part of her yearned to witness the gathering of chieftains, she knew her presence would only complicate matters.

  Settling onto Rannveig's bed, Astrid smiled as Bloodpaws pressed against her side, his loud purring a comfort in the quiet room. She would use this time to reflect, to plan, to grow into the person she needed to be—someone who could protect others, not just herself. As the muffled sounds of preparations filtered through the thick walls, Astrid began to contemplate her future role and the responsibilities that came with true freedom.

  Over the next three days, clan leaders arrived at Fjell?rn. From Rannveig's window, Astrid watched mounted warriors and wealthy landowners arrive from the coastal road to Skipavik. Word reached the fortress of warships docking at Magnus's military port to the north, their warriors making the short march inland. The fortress bustled as thralls prepared the great hall and readied the adjacent longhouses to house the growing assembly.

  On the fourth evening, horns announced the Thing. The massive timber structures of Fjell?rn's longhouses loomed in the fading light. Inside the jarl's longhouse, smoke curled from the central hearth, filling the cavernous space with a golden glow. Carved wooden pillars and tapestries depicting tales of gods and heroes lent an air of ancient grandeur to the gathering place.

  At the head of the hall, Jarl Magnus sat upon his ornately carved oaken throne. Though well into his fifth decade, he still cut an imposing figure. His hair and beard were streaked with gray, but his piercing gray eyes remained as sharp as ever. He wore a fur cloak over his tunic, his sword hanging at his side, a silent reminder of his prowess as a warrior.

  To Magnus's left stood Kjell, his brother and trusted Stallari. Kjell's weathered face and battle-scarred hands spoke of years of military service, his keen eyes surveying the hall with a strategist's precision. Beside him, his wife Thyra stood tall and formidable, her steady gaze and proud bearing befitting the wife of Magnus's most trusted advisor.

  At Kjell's signal, thralls opened the great doors. He stood at the entrance, directing the flow of arrivals - clan chiefs first, their wealth evident in their silver arm rings and well-crafted weapons, followed by landowners in their fine wool cloaks, then merchants whose success showed in their confident bearing. Warriors and kinsmen filled the remaining spaces, their weapons creating a subtle symphony of metal against wood as they settled onto the benches.

  The hall buzzed with murmured greetings and shuffling feet until Kjell struck his spear against the floor. As the noise subsided, the lawspeaker stepped forward, his ceremonial staff marking his authority. He took his place at the center of the room, nodding to Magnus.

  Jarl Magnus rose, his presence commanding immediate silence. "Esteemed leaders and honored guests," his voice carried to every corner of the hall, "I thank you for answering our call in these troubled times. As we speak, Gunnar's warships surround the village of Skogstrand, our closest neighbor to the north. His unchecked aggression threatens not just their survival, but the stability of all our clans."

  Magnus paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembly. "My son, Brandr, has firsthand knowledge of Gunnar's recent actions. I ask you to hear his words and consider carefully the decision that lies before us."

  With a nod to Brandr, Magnus yielded the floor. Brandr stepped forward, the assembled leaders regarding the young nobleman with interest and appraisal. Standing tall and exuding confidence, Brandr addressed the gathering, his voice echoing through the hushed great hall.

  Brandr stepped forward, his face etched with concern. "As my father says, Gunnar threatens Skogstrand. But his aggression reaches further. On my recent journey from Honningdal, my party was set upon by raiders bearing Gunnar's emblem and using ships of his make."

  Murmurs of unease swept through the tense assembly. Brandr raised a hand, calling for silence.

  "We were a peaceful merchant vessel, carrying only honey and herbs for trade. Yet they attacked without provocation or warning."

  At this, the lawspeaker stepped forward, his ceremonial staff clicking against the floor. "Esteemed leaders," he intoned, "let it be known that such actions violate our most sacred laws. Unprovoked aggression against peaceful clans and the use of piracy to disrupt trade are grave offenses against the order that binds our people."

  The lawspeaker's words carried the weight of tradition, silencing the murmurs that had begun to rise.

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  Brandr nodded gratefully to the lawspeaker before continuing. "These raiders have been targeting merchant vessels on our southern trade routes, threatening Skipavik's prosperity. If Gunnar conquers Skogstrand, he will gain alarming access to our borders and resources, jeopardizing all clans of Veldefold."

  The lawspeaker spoke again. "In times past, when one leader threatened the peace of many, it was the duty of all to stand against such aggression. Our laws and customs demand we protect those who cannot protect themselves."

  Brandr's voice rang with conviction as he concluded. "We cannot stand idle. I urge you to take up spears alongside us. Together, we can show this renegade the strength of our unity!"

  The room erupted in heated debate as the clan leaders spoke their minds.

  "Gunnar is a treacherous snake!" bellowed Ivar the Stout, a wealthy merchant from Veldefold. His fist pounded the table. "He promised me a dozen strong thralls in trade, but delivered weaklings, old men, and boys!"

  Kjell raised a hand, his voice cutting through the clamor. "Ivar, while concerning, personal grievances do not constitute breaking the peace."

  The lawspeaker nodded in agreement. "Kjell speaks true. We must focus on actions that threaten all our clans, not individual disputes."

  Ivar subsided, grumbling, but the tension in the room remained.

  "What of the raiders attacking our ships?" Idunn the Fair challenged, her elegant bearing at odds with the steel in her voice. "My son barely escaped their attack. They bore Gunnar's emblem openly."

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the assembly. A grizzled trading captain stood, his face weathered by sea winds. "We've seen the same! Three of my vessels were set upon last moon, wearing Gunnar's emblems."

  Another voice called out, "Our knarr was ambushed near the southern fjords. The raiders' ship was unmistakably of Gunnar's make!"

  The chorus of testimonies lent weight to Brandr's earlier claims, the mood in the hall shifting palpably.

  A burly warrior rose, his scarred face contorted with anger. "If we do nothing, where is the honor in that? Our ancestors would turn in their graves if we let such injustice go unpunished!"

  "Baseless accusations!" Kol, a wealthy landowner from inland Veldefold, shouted. "Those raiders could have stolen Gunnar's emblem to disguise themselves. Gunnar merely seeks what was promised - a bride from Torbjorn to unite their clans."

  His words stirred a ripple of muttered agreements. "True, a promise is a promise," one grizzled Viking said. Another voice chimed in, "Women who defy their fathers bring nothing but shame and chaos." The undercurrent of discontent grew, with several nods exchanging among the older chieftains.

  An angry voice cut through the rising clamor. "And what of the ships? Are we to believe they stole Gunnar's entire fleet?"

  The hall erupted into chaos, arguments flying back and forth. Kjell stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding. "Enough! We will speak in turn or not at all. This is a Thing, not a tavern brawl."

  The room fell silent under Kjell's stern gaze. Brandr and Magnus exchanged a glance, their faces impassive as they observed the proceedings. Magnus gave a slight nod, and Brandr stood, ready to address the assembly once more.

  Suddenly, a figure stepped forward from the crowd. It was Helga the Hussy, towering above most men by a head's height, her broad-shouldered frame powerful as a warrior's yet unmistakably feminine. Her pearlescent braid caught the firelight, and her sapphire eyes surveyed the room with confidence. Despite her imposing stature, her face held a striking beauty that drew men's gazes. At her sides stood her husbands, Sigmund, Beowulf and Agnar, their presence adding to her commanding aura.

  Helga's voice cut through the noise, strong and clear. "Fine words about honor and protection, men. But let’s get down to the bone of it. What's in it for us who risk our ships and our warriors? Peace is well and good, but it won't rebuild what we might lose."

  The room fell silent, her blunt words hanging heavily in the air. The leaders exchanged wary glances, the weight of Helga's query adding another layer of complexity to their deliberations.

  Magnus's eyes found Helga's, holding her gaze for a long moment. His expression was shrewd, measuring the weight of her challenge. Then, with deliberate movement, he rose from his carved oaken throne. As he lifted a broad hand, the remaining murmurs instantly subsided. All eyes turned to their venerable leader, anticipating his response.

  "You have spoken with passion, sharing knowledge of crimes against you and finding common ground with your allies," Jarl Magnus began, his deep voice filling the cavernous hall. "I commend my son Brandr for bringing this crucial matter to our attention. He has demonstrated wisdom beyond his years in understanding the true nature of our situation."

  Brandr bowed his head respectfully, acknowledging his father's praise. To Magnus's left, Kjell nodded approvingly, his stern features softening momentarily with pride for his nephew. Beside him, Thyra's eyes gleamed with agreement, her strong hands clasped before her.

  Jarl Magnus's piercing gaze swept over the assembled chieftains. "Now we must look beyond our individual grievances and consider the greater impact on us all. The actions against one clan ripple outward, affecting each of us in turn. If Gunnar, in his ruthlessness, conquers Skogstrand, he will control access to our borders. None of us here wish to see our people and lands fall under the rule of a tyrant who disregards our laws and kinship bonds."

  He paused, allowing his words to resonate with the gathering. "Moreover, recall that peace among neighbors fosters prosperity. Trade thrives, alliances grow stronger, and our people flourish. All clans benefit when we encourage such harmony and defend those unable to protect themselves from such aggression."

  Murmurs of assent greeted his words. Magnus pressed on, his voice carrying a subtle challenge. "So I ask you this: who would you prefer as a neighbor - a man of honor like Torbjorn, or an untrustworthy warmonger like Gunnar?"

  Tension filled the hall as the weight of his question settled upon the assembly. None dared speak in favor of the treacherous Gunnar. Kjell and Thyra exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions mirroring Magnus's resolve.

  At last, Kol broke the silence, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Torbjorn has always been known for his honor. He would indeed make a better neighbor." The other chiefs murmured their agreement, some more readily than others.

  Magnus nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Then our course is clear. We will stand with Torbjorn against Gunnar's forces. I pledge my fleet and my warriors to this cause. Brandr?"

  Brandr stepped forward, his voice strong and clear. "I too pledge my fleet and my warriors to defend Skogstrand."

  Kjell turned to the assembled leaders. "What of the rest of you?"

  One by one, the clan leaders rose, making their pledges. Kol offered a significant portion of his grain stores and livestock. Ivar the Stout promised silver for ship repairs, warriors and equipment. Idunn the Fair vowed to provide medical supplies and healers. Across the hall, other clan leaders and landowners followed suit, pledging warriors and supplies to the cause.

  As the last of the pledges were made, it was clear that not only a formidable force had been amassed, but also the provisions to sustain it.

  Helga leaned close to her husbands, her voice low. "Magnus still hasn't addressed the compensation. No matter, I'll speak with him later." Her confidence was evident in her tone. Sigmund shared a knowing look with her, while Agnar’s keen eyes surveyed the hall.

  Then Helga rose, towering above those seated nearby, her flaxen braid shining even in the dim light. "I pledge my fleet of ships and my warriors to this cause. We stand ready to meet Gunnar's forces on land or sea." Her sapphire eyes held Magnus's gaze, her commanding presence drawing all attention in the hall.

  Kjell and Brandr exchanged glances before nodding approvingly at Helga. Her renowned fleet of fierce warriors would indeed have a significant impact on their campaign. Helga's face reflected her confidence as she watched their reaction, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

  As the crowd erupted in cheers, Helga stepped back to her husbands. "Listen here," she murmured, her eyes glinting with ambition, "when the dust settles, our influence will stretch far beyond these shores. This battle is the first step to greater power." Her three husbands nodded imperceptibly, their unity absolute. Then Helga turned to the crowd, her brilliant smile transforming her face as she prepared to join the celebration.

  The atmosphere in the hall shifted, warming noticeably as servants circulated with horns of mead to seal their pledges of loyalty. Conversation turned to the logistics of preparing and transporting their combined forces to Skogstrand.

  As the pledges concluded, the lawspeaker stepped forward, his staff tapping solemnly on the floor. "Let it be known," he intoned, "that these pledges, made freely before the assembled leaders, are binding under our ancient laws and customs."

  Kjell rose, his voice carrying across the hall. "The pledges have been heard and recorded. Our combined strength will be formidable. Let no one doubt our resolve."

  Magnus then stood, his presence commanding immediate attention. "My friends," he began, his voice resonant with authority, "I commend each of you for your generous contributions. Your sacrifices will not be in vain. Through our combined efforts, we shall secure peace and stability for our lands."

  Nods of approval rippled through the assembly, the leaders bolstered by Magnus's words.

  As the formal proceedings of the Thing concluded, Brandr rose once more to address the assembled leaders.

  "Before we turn to celebration, I have one final word," he announced. "Messengers have already been sent to Skogstrand, bearing news of our intent to aid Torbjorn against Gunnar's threat. We await Torbjorn's reply, which should arrive soon if the gods grant our messengers swift and safe passage. But be assured - when the call comes, our ships will be ready to sail for Skogstrand, laden with warriors prepared to fight alongside our allies."

  Satisfied nods and grunts of approval met Brandr's words. With serious matters concluded, the mood lightened as servants began circulating with platters of roasted meats, bread, cheeses, and pitchers of ale and mead. Soon, the hall echoed with raucious conversation and laughter.

  The celebration continued late into the night, with Magnus orchestrating the strengthening of alliances through shared stories, drinking contests, and feats of strength. Kjell moved slowly through the crowd, engaging with each pledger to discuss the specifics of their contributions. His practiced mind assessed the quality of the promised warriors and supplies, ensuring that each pledge would translate into tangible support.

  Meanwhile, Brandr found himself increasingly sought after by his father's allies, each eager for a moment with the heir apparent. The groundwork for their coming victory against Gunnar's forces was being laid in these moments of kinship and revelry.

  As the night wore on, Brandr found himself at the center of attention, with allies eager for a private word. Idunn the Fair approached, her face drawn with memory of her son's narrow escape.

  "Few believed us when we spoke of Gunnar's raiders," she said. "But you stood before them all and spoke truth, even knowing some would doubt. That takes courage."

  Brandr bowed his head. "Your son's testimony gave others the confidence to speak of similar attacks. Without that, we might not have gained such strong support today."

  As they conversed, Kol sidled up, his eyes roving over Idunn's form with undisguised interest. Idunn stiffened, taking a step back.

  "Quite the gathering, young Brandr," Kol said, his eyes glinting with cunning. "Your father certainly knows how to win allies. Always enjoy these feasts of his."

  Brandr nodded politely, but Kol wasn't finished. He leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Speaking of enjoyment, I hear you've taken a fancy to Torbjorn's thrall. The pretty one with the golden hair." Kol's smile turned lecherous. "Can't blame you. Nothing like a pretty slave to warm your bed, eh? I've got a few beauties myself."

  Brandr's jaw tightened, discomfort evident in his rigid posture. Idunn's face twisted in disgust as she moved away.

  Kol chuckled, oblivious to Brandr's unease. "Well, enjoy her while you can, lad. They're only good for a few years before you need to toss them aside for a fresher one!" He laughed crudely.

  "Excuse me," Brandr said curtly, turning away to find his uncle Kjell.

  As he moved through the crowd, Brandr couldn't shake off the unpleasant encounter. He forced his mind to more pressing matters, wondering how Rannveig and Sigrida were faring on their journey. He hoped they would return home safely soon, their mission successful. The thought of their perilous journey to Skogstrand weighed heavily on him as the festivities continued around him.

  Astrid sat in the closed bedroom, her ear pressed against the wooden door. The muffled sounds of revelry from the great hall filtered through, signaling the successful conclusion of the Thing.

  Bloodpaws leapt onto the bed beside her, the massive cat's presence oddly steadying. She absently stroked his thick fur as her thoughts turned to Erik, Sigrida, and Rannveig. They would be halfway through their return journey by now, having met with her father two days ago. If all went well, they would reach Fjell?rn in two days' time.

  Astrid bit her lip, recalling her father's fierce pride. Had he been receptive to Magnus's terms? Or had his stubbornness prevailed? She knew Torbjorn's fierce independence could sometimes cloud his judgment. And what of Erik? Would her father's anger at their escape be turned against him?

  She stood to pace the small room, Bloodpaws watching her with half-closed eyes from his perch. The success of the Thing would mean little if her father had refused the alliance. Astrid could only hope that Erik's loyalty and Rannveig's diplomacy had been enough to sway Torbjorn's mind.

  Her hands clenched at her sides. Once again, others risked everything to clean up the mess she'd made. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on her. She had started this by running away, and now the fate of two clans hung in the balance. Whatever came next, she swore to herself, she would face it not as someone to be protected, but as someone worthy of the loyalty she'd been shown.